Don't touch my balls
by Ophium
Summary: Pure crack. My first adventure in the DA fandom, a 'dip of toe' set pos-Freak Nation. Featuring clingy Alec, understanding Max and totally baffled Mole. Complete.


**Don't touch my balls**

"Don't touch my balls!"

The words, if not the voice uttering them, would be enough to turn every single head in transgenic city headquarters around. The face that Mole was wearing when they were spoken to him was just the icing on the cake.

"Jezz, princess! It's not like they're labeled or something," he calmly said, chewing his surprise on the ever present cigar on his mouth. "And it ain't like I'm the first to get a taste…"

Alec's face was too red to be counted as normal, words not quite understandable dripping from his clenched teeth as he grabbed the abused item. The clenched 'mine' that managed to pass his lips was just about all that anyone could make out.

It had been a lousy couple of weeks for everyone; there was no denying that. The police wouldn't lay off, the army was still piling resources too damn near to the borders of Terminal City, the politicians on TV kept calling them dangerous freaks and a freaking health problem and supplies had been running low, up until the previous night.

Alec had pull through on that, disappearing for a couple of hours and coming back with a truck load of boxes of precooked meals, mumbling something about some supplier that he knew from one place or another who owed him a couple of favors. Breakfast that morning had been an event that had actually included food and everyone was breathing a little more easily.

Alec was the hero of the hour and everyone had wanted to congratulate him and say thanks, but no one had actually been able to because no one had seen Alec since last night. Until now, in headquarters, with Mole. And his balls.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Max barked from her 'office' door. It wasn't exactly what you might call an actual office, with four walls and stuff hanging from them, but it had a desk and it was a place where trangenics could leave messages for their fearless leader or where they could go to when she wanted to yell at them.

Despite the arrival of food, Max's temper hadn't improved much, her head already on to the next problem, already figuring what they were supposed to do when this load of food ran out. It wasn't like she could depend on Alec to keep on doing the same thing he had last night every time that they were starving. It wasn't fair to him and it was too much to ask from anyone. She had seen him last night; she had been with him through the night; she had seen the bruises and the finger marks on his skin. She would not ask him to do that ever again.

"Princess here got her panties in a twist because I took on of his-"

"They're mine… you're not suppose to take them without asking!" Alec cut in, anger still raging, hands protecting his precious balls and not one speck of care for the small fact that he was starting to sound like a five year old. In fact, the whole situation was sending him closer and closer to the verge of pouting.

Max sighed, her superior vision zeroing on Alec and his balls.  
"Leave him alone Mole…"

Mole did a double take as his ears assured him that yes, he had just heard Max defending Alec. It was, quiet possibly, the beginning of the end of the world. "T'hell… I don't see what the fuzz is about. It was just a freaking ball!"

"But they're his balls, Mole… you don't know what he had to do to get t-"

"Max!" Alec cut in, his face still red but now, clearly, for very different reasons. "I don't want them to kn-"

He couldn't even bring himself to say it, to think about it. It had been all too horrible to even mention. All the pitching of his cheeks, the cuddling and the words… God! The words…

Max had to spend the whole night sparring with him just to remind Alec that he was not a cutie kitten and that he did not had the 'cutest baby cheeks' ever; that he was in fact a mean, killing machine, genetically engineered in a lab to be the perfect soldier.

It had taken some time.

Alec didn't care if he had to steal the next time they needed food. He was never going back to that retirement home where all those old ladies had mother him to death, pinching his face until his cheeks were numb, calling his sweetie and lovely boy, and such a precious kitten for taking the time to come and visit them...  
No, not ever gain, no matter how much food he knew they had stored in their basement or how desperate things went on Terminal City.

And if he had kept all the Whoppers packs to himself, that was his prize for not having killed a single one of those old geezers, no matter how many times he was hugged and kissed. They were his Whoppers.

"They're my chocolate balls, and I don't want to share," he said with finality, clenching the bag to his chest and disappearing in to his 'office'.

Mole was left gapping so badly that his cigar was actually at risk of falling down. "T'hell?"

"Don't ask, Mole," Max simply said, turning to head back to her 'office' as well. "A man's balls are not something that you eat without asking… you should know that."

The end


End file.
